The Downward Spiral of Adam Keir | Chapter 16

Larisa didn’t show up until 9:10. The extra ten minutes he’d waited both enraged Adam and made him consider reconsidering. Did he have to confront her? What if he was wrong? But the moment he heard her key twist in the front door’s lock, his hesitance disappeared. There would be no dancing around the issue. The elephant in the room had to be addressed now.
            After listening to her remove her shoes and coat, he expected her to head into the dining room. Instead, by the sound of it, she started walking upstairs.
            “Larisa,” he called out, and she froze in her tracks halfway up. “Come in here.”
            She didn’t move for a few seconds, but when she did, she came back downstairs and did as he asked.
            “Yeah?” Though she tried to look normal, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear, her hands trembled a bit.
            He gestured to a chair he’d set near himself. “Sit down.”
            “Listen, I’m really tired�"”
            “Sit down.”
            She didn’t say anything. With slow, reluctant movements, she took her seat. Then, Adam stared at her, willing her to speak in her own defense. But instead, she stared down at her lap and wrung her hands.
            “You’re late,” he pointed out.
            “Traffic,” she answered immediately, nearly cutting him off.
            Adam expressed his disbelief with raised brows, but she didn’t notice, too busy staring at her nails. “That’s funny,” he said.
            “Why?”
            “Because traffic isn’t usually bad this late at night. It’s usually bad at, hmm, let’s see . . . rush hour?”
            “Well, it was,” Larisa mumbled.
            “What was it that really kept you, Larisa? Your boss? A co-worker?”
            She squinted. “It was traffic,” she insisted, sticking to her story.
            Adam stared at her with dissatisfied, hooded eyes.
            “It was!”
            After a brief pause, Adam came up with something that might rattle her. Leaning back, he said, “You know, you don’t have to be afraid to talk to me. I’m your husband, not a stranger.”
            “Are you sure about that?” she countered. “Because you aren’t acting a whole lot like my husband.”
            He leaned toward her. “And what does your husband act like, Larisa? A non-confrontational coward who lives in denial of the truth lying right in front of his face?”
            “I never said that.”
            “But you’re not denying it.”
            She rolled her eyes and let out a huff. “This is stupid. Are you even listening to yourself?”
            “Describe him for me, then.”
            “Who?”
            “Your husband.”
            “Are you being serious right now?”
            “Describe Adam Keir for me.”
            Exasperated she shook her head and threw up her hands. “Um, fine. My husband, who is currently experiencing some sort of psychotic break by the looks of it, is a kind-hearted, gentle, compassionate man.”
            Adam slammed his hand down on the table. “That’s wrong!”
            Larisa flinched. “Fine, geez. What, you want me to be brutally honest?”
            “Murder him with your words.”
            She hesitated, looking at him in both fear and concern. Then, she said, “My husband’s a quiet man. Doesn’t raise his voice too often. In fact, it’s been years since the last time he’s shouted. He doesn’t like to burden others, and is terrified of embarrassing himself. I’m sure that if he had it his way, he’d want to be a fly on the wall more than a human being.
            “Things that happen in his life happen without comment. He doesn’t celebrate. He doesn’t mourn or regret. He doesn’t argue. He just . . . accepts. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in his head, whether he feels anything or only pretends to. I mean, he must get angry. Things must bother him, but he never says anything to me if they do. I worry about him, a lot. Worry there might be a day where he’ll . . .” She looked at him, brows twisted. “. . . Snap.”
            He continued to stare at her, not averting his eyes when they met hers. “Do you think I’ve snapped, Larisa?”
            She opened her mouth to answer, but then looked away, closed her lips, and gulped. When she finally did speak, she only muttered, “I hope not.”
            Satisfied, Adam put his leg up and again leaned back. “Let’s not talk about me anymore,” he suggested. “Let’s talk about him.”
            She looked at him again. “Who?”
            “Don’t ask me. You’re the one who knows him. Who is he?”
            “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
            Adam grinned. “The guy on the phone. The one you call when you think I can’t hear you.”
            He watched Larisa’s face as it blanched, her eyes widening.
            “Who is he, Larisa?”
            She looked down at her lap and didn’t answer.
            “Why do you call him? It used to be only after I denied your advances because I was busy. But then you called him a few days ago, the morning after we had sex. And you told him that he was better than me, didn’t you?”
            “Adam,” she stammered guiltily.
            “You called him tonight, didn’t you? That’s why you were late. I don’t think you had enough time to see him, but you must’ve talked. What did you two talk about, Larisa?”
            “Adam, what are you suggesting?”
            “I’m not ‘suggesting’ anything. I’m telling you what I know.”
            “What, you ‘know’ that I’m having an affair? Because I called someone a few times?”
            “What you forgot about me, Larisa, is that I don’t often jump to conclusions. But when I do,”�"he examined a loose thread sticking out of his sock�"“I’m usually right.”
            “How dare you?”
            Adam raised his eyes to glare at her. “I should be asking you that. But that wouldn’t be like me, would it? It’d be too out of character for Adam Keir, the soft-spoken, spineless fly on the wall.”
            “Don’t take my words out of context like that, you b*****d!” She stood up from her chair to tower over him. Unintimidated, he looked up at her as she started to rant. “I’m not some two-timing w***e, contrary to what you might believe. You mightn’t have any faith in our marriage, but I do! I married you for one reason, Adam, one reason that should’ve dispelled any of your stupid doubts in me. Do you know what it is, Adam? Do you?”
            Adam didn’t answer. I don’t know why. I’m not romantic, I’m apparently not that good in bed, and I’m not rich. So . . . why the hell did she marry me?
            “I married you, Adam,”�"she grabbed his shoulders and shook them�"“you, because I loved you. I still love you!”
            “Do you?” It was Adam’s turn to stand, and he got into her face. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be sleeping with another man!”
            “Adam�"”
            “Tell me the truth. Are you seeing someone else?”
            Her anger faded, and she looked down at the table.
            “Well?”
            “I didn’t know you knew the language of flowers.”
            “What are you talking about?”
            She pointed her chin, and Adam looked over his shoulder to see that she was gesturing at the bouquet that Evangeline had left for him.
            “Are those meant to insult me, too?” With sarcasm, she hissed, “You shouldn’t have.”
            “They’re only flowers.”
            “Oh, bullshit. You don’t just buy a bouquet of pansies and honey flowers without knowing what it means. Where did you even get the honey flowers?”
            “What does it mean?”
            Larisa looked at him, clearly offended. “Pansies and honey flowers together mean that you’re thinking of forbidden love.”
            Adam looked at the bouquet. So it does have a meaning! “How do you know that?”
            She sat down. “I used to have an interest in flowers,” she admitted in a low voice. “Did you really not know that?”
            “No,” he confessed.
            With that, Larisa glared up at him. “So, someone gave this to you?”
            “Someone left it at the pawn shop.”
            His wife straightened her posture. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
            “No. The flowers have nothing to do with this.”
            “Are you sure? Because you’re accusing me of cheating, but here you are with a bouquet that suggests you might not be so innocent yourself . . .”
            Finally, Adam got what she was hinting at, and his own eyes widened.
            “Who is she, Adam?” Larisa hissed, turning the tables on her husband. “How do you talk to her? Through text, right? Twitter? You’ve been on your phone so often recently . . . When do you see her? You see her while I’m at work, right? Her place or yours?”
            “You’ve got the wrong idea,” he insisted. “She’s a friend, nothing more.”
            “A friend who bought you a bouquet saying she loves you even if you’re already taken.”
            “Yes.”
            “And you have the nerve to accuse me of cheating!” Larisa got up and stormed toward the doorway. Before he knew what he was doing, Adam caught her wrist and pulled her back. His face close to hers, he snarled,
            “You’re wrong.”
            “Well, if I’m wrong,” she taunted, “then so are you.”
            She admitted it! She’s willing to admit it if I do? But I’m not cheating on her . . . Am I?
            Larisa pulled her hand free from his, but he only grabbed her again, harder this time. She flinched and tried to break free again, to no avail. His grip was as tight as a vice.
            Let her go, he told himself. But his body wouldn’t obey.
            “Adam, let go,” she said.
            “So, you are cheating.”
            “What?”
            “You let the cat out of the bag, Larisa.”
            “Oh, yeah? How’d I do that?”
            “Your sarcasm. You don’t think you’re wrong about me cheating. You know I’m lying. But then you said that I was ‘wrong’, too. Meaning that I’m right.”
            Larisa started to sweat. “Adam, let go of me.”
            “Tell me the truth, and I will.”
            “This is a big misunderstanding, that’s all.”
            He tightened his grip until she gasped in discomfort. “The truth.”
            Stop it, you’re hurting her.
            “Adam, you’re scaring me . . .”
            Let go of her.
            “Answer me, Larisa.”
            She turned her head. “I’m going upstairs.”
            Snap.
            Adam yanked Larisa back, and she let out a brief scream.
            “For God’s sake, answer me!” he screamed at her. “I’d be willing to talk about it peacefully if you’d only admit it!”
            “Adam, stop it!”
            “Are you cheating on me?”
            “Adam!” She pounded at his chest with her free hand.
            “Are you??” He shook her.
            “Yes!”
            Adam froze.
            “Yes . . .” Larisa began crying. “I’m cheating on you! I’m not proud of it, and I’ve been trying to stop, but it’s not that easy . . . !”
            “With who?”
            Head in her hand, she sobbed, “I can’t tell you.”
            “With who?” he demanded.
            “You don’t know him,” she mumbled.
            Stop. I got my answer.
            Adam let go of Larisa and took a step back. He stared down at her as she cried into her hands, either genuinely ashamed or faking it well. It was his expectation that he would feel the need to comfort her, but, to his surprise, he felt no such urge. In fact, he felt nothing. He wasn’t angry or relieved that she’d confessed. Apathy was all he could feel.
            But then came a sudden burst of fury. During it, he reached past Larisa and grabbed the vase. He lifted it over his head, ready to hurl it into the wall behind her, and she screamed again. Then, as quickly as it came over him, the fury disappeared. It wasn’t his wife’s scream that stopped him, though. No, it was . . .
            Evangeline.
            He lowered the vase and looked at the bouquet again. The pansy petals that had been dying earlier were now slowly coming back to life. Placated by the sight, Adam put the vase back down. Then, he turned and left the dining room.
            “Adam?” Larisa said after him.
            He ignored her and went upstairs. Once there, he went straight into his office and closed the door. For a long moment, he did nothing. Then, he grabbed one of his books and whipped it into the wall. Another joined it, and another, before he finally sat down. It felt like his life was in shambles, and he wanted his office to be representative of that. But he did nothing more. Instead, he lowered his head to the desk.
            What should I do? I don’t know what to do.
            Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes, hoping to will it all away somehow.
            I don’t need anyone’s help. Not Dr. Frost’s, not Jesse’s . . . Not anybody’s. I can deal with this. I can forgive and forget, and we can pretend this never happened.
            He would be fine on his own. There would be no need to confide in anyone.

* * *

“Adam, let’s talk about her.”
            “Her?” Adam asked, though he already knew who Dr. Frost was referring to.
            “The girl in the fire.”
            “The dead girl?”
            “Do you remember who she is yet, Adam?”
            He shook his head.
            “How about how the fire started?”
            “No. All I remember is seeing her reaching out for me.”
            “Did she say anything?”
            “She called my name . . .”
            Dr. Frost looked down at his notebook and tapped his pen against his lips. “Last time, you told me that it ‘should’ve been you’. Do you still feel that way?”
            “Yeah,” Adam nodded as he answered quietly. “Of course.”
            “Why?” The psychologist tilted his head in curiosity. “Why should it have been you? What makes you feel that way, Adam?”
            “She was . . .” Adam’s eyes turned down to the floor as the sight of her reaching out to him again haunted him. He remembered the way the fire had made her platinum hair glow a scarlet orange. Under different circumstances, he would’ve found it beautiful. He’d always loved her hair. “She was my best friend.”
            “Was she? Or was she something more?”
            Confused, he looked at his doctor. “Something more? What do you mean?”
            Dr. Frost shrugged. After leaning back in his chair, he suggested something that threw Adam for a loop.
            “Are you sure she wasn’t . . .” He paused, gray eyes meeting Adam’s with a tinge of what could’ve been malice. It sent a chill down Adam’s spine, even before he finished his question. “Family?”